36. Asher
36
ASHER
T he silence is smothering. My leg jumps repeatedly, becoming an outlet for my building frustration.
Finn has a suspect.
It’s a weak suspect really, but it’s all we have to go on and I want to get my hands on him. I want to shake him until he spills the truth or breaks down because he’s innocent. If he is innocent, we’re back to square one.
Finn sits at the front of his lecture hall, head bowed as he works on something on the desk. I sit at the back, just waiting for our suspect to appear. Caspian’s supposed to be here too, but for some reason, he’s running late and only answers texts with cryptic emojis. Whatever’s caught his attention better be important.
And then the door opens.
Finn’s suspect strides in with a rucksack over one shoulder and a black jacket tucked under the other arm. A black jacket with a blue tag. He approaches the desk and ducks his head slightly to get Finn’s attention.
“Mr. Barlowe? You wanted to see me?”
Finn lifts his head. “Ah, Mike! Glad you could get here on such short notice.”
“It’s no problem. Is everything alright?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your final project.” Finn pulls the papers free of a binder.
As they talk, I watch Mike. He looks like a regular kid. He’s tall and lanky, but there’s definite muscle definition on his arms. He seems at ease, with a polite smile and a face that’s just kind enough to offset the intimidation of his build.
Is it him? Is he the one who’s been terrorizing Emma for months? Stalking her and threatening her?
I can’t tell. Nothing about this guy suggests stalker but what else do we have? His jacket matches the jacket in the video and it’s the only lead we have.
“So in your story,” Finn continues, drawing my attention back to their conversation. “I’ll be blunt.” He slaps the papers down on his desk in front of Mike. “The male and female characters in your story, are they you and Emma?”
Mike’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open. “Huh?”
I rise from my seat and begin walking down the steps toward them.
“The woman you write about that suffers through all of your unnecessary violence, is that Emma? Emma Pierce?”
“What?” Mike shakes his head quickly. “No, of course not. They’re not anybody.”
“Don’t lie to me, Mike. This entire semester we’ve talked about characters pulling from real life and your male character definitely fits you. The woman is Emma, isn’t it?”
“No,” Mike says, shaking his head as he takes a half step back. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“This!” Finn surges forward and snatches the jacket from under Finn’s arm. “Emma was drugged in a club and a man wearing this jacket was seen dragging her away! It was you, wasn’t it?”
Mike pales and looks as if he’s about to be sick. “Oh my God, no! No, that wasn’t me. What the fuck? Is she okay?”
“Don’t play dumb with me; it’s the same jacket!” Finn slams the jacket down on his desk and Mike jumps. From here, he looks alarmed and scared. A far cry from the threatening monster we’d assumed he would be.
“Every—everyone has that jacket!” Mike gasps, waving out one trembling hand. “They sell it in town, honestly! I swear, just take a look the next time it rains; everyone has this jacket!”
Mike finally catches sight of me as I approach.
“Please! I haven’t done anything, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I swear, I swear everyone has those jackets, please!”
My anger fades slightly. Mike just looks like a scared kid, and no wonder given Finn’s anger.
“Are you lying to me?” Finn snaps. “Are you the kind of asshole that breaks into people’s homes? Stalks them into the mountains ?”
“What the fuck!” Mike takes another step back and his eyes glisten. “You’re insane! I haven’t done anything, I swear. The mountain? What has that got to do with my story? Please…” He looks at me and takes another step back. “I don’t understand.”
I hesitate.
Mike looks terrified. His face is pale, his knees shake, and one hand is repeatedly clenching. If he’s right, and that jacket is common then our search for a culprit just became a needle in a haystack.
Now we just have a scared student being threatened by two teachers, and that’s a step too far.
“Finn,” I say, knowing we have to be careful.
Finn looks at me, his face twisting with fury. The moment our eyes meet, he seems to relax and the same understanding spreads across his face. The jacket is nothing. Barely even evidence and now we’re confronting a student just because he wrote a fucked-up story.
“I … I’m sorry,” Finn says.
Mike takes that cue and turns around, sprinting from the room.
“Fuck,” I groan. “Thought he was gonna piss himself.”
“The pieces fit,” Finn snaps, holding the jacket up. “They fit .”
“And they could fit a hundred other guys in this place if that jacket is common. You had a good idea but shit, if we’re gonna confront every asshole wearing that kind of jacket, then we need to work on your approach.”
Finn sags down into his chair. “I was so sure we were onto something. The way he writes, he’s angry at someone. A woman, clearly. And with everything that’s happened to Emma plus the jacket…it just fits.”
“Loosely,” I remind him. “Accusing everyone doesn’t help Emma, it just?—”
“You guys are gonna love me!” Caspian comes charging into the lecture hall and stumbles to a stop near the desk. He doubles over, panting so harshly that the vibration of his lungs is audible, and he coughs sharply.
“Holy shit dude, careful.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He tosses something onto the desk and straightens up, then leans back with a groan. “Fuck.”
“What’s this?” Finn picks up a small memory card.
“I know … who destroyed … my studio …” He pants aggressively.
“What? That’s great! Who was it?” I ask.
“No clue,” Caspian gasps. “Don’t recognize him.”
Finn sets to work hooking the card up to his phone, then his phone to his computer.
“What happened? How did you find this?” Finn asks.
“When I was cleaning up this morning, I completely forgot that one of my still-life students had set up a camera to record mundane activities in the studio as part of their entire project. Studio Through the Days , or the Year , or something. It’s supposed to be some real-life analogy about watching paint dry and comparing it to the boring reality of life.” He waves one hand. “Doesn’t matter. Anyway, that thing’s been recording for hours, and I found it in the trash because the lens is fucked. But the memory?”
Caspian points toward the computer and a video flickers on screen. Finn starts scrolling, and indeed, the life of everyone in the studio flashes up on the screen.
“Near the end,” Caspian instructs. “Fast forward.”
Finn obeys. All eyes are on the screen when someone charges into the studio and starts destroying everything in a fit of pure rage. Their back is to the camera and with no sound, there’s no telling what they’re saying until they turn to the camera.
Finn hits pause and a recognizable face flashes onto the screen.
“Mike!” Finn’s on his feet, sprinting out to the hall without another word.
“Huh?” Caspian gasps, finally catching his breath.
“That’s him,” I reply, moving to take Finn’s seat. “The guy Finn suspected. He has the jacket from the video, and if he was the one who did this to your studio, then he was there the night Emma’s pictures were stolen.”
“Fuck,” Caspian grunts. “So what is he? A jealous ex? A jilted lover?”
“I’m not sure.” I took a quick screenshot. “But I bet Emma will know.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon looking for Mike but come up empty. Despite his impressive display of sickly innocence, he’s gone up and vanished.
I blame myself. If I hadn’t stepped in, Mike would have been in the hall when Caspian arrived and we would have had our answers. Instead, he slipped through our fingers. Before leaving campus, I supply security with a picture of Mike and his student ID. They promise to alert us if he reappears.
It’s late evening by the time we get back to Finn’s apartment and I hurry inside, eager to see Emma. We haven’t heard from her since she said she was driving home from her parents and I’m hoping she just fell asleep.
Only the bedroom is empty.
“Emma?” I call, checking the bathroom. Still nothing. I meet the others back in the lounge and we all share the same worried flicker of confusion. Emma isn’t here.
Finn calls her immediately but she doesn’t answer. He sends her a text but there’s no reply. With Mike in the wind, and him being our prime suspect, the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.
“You don’t think…?” I say, unwilling to finish that sentence in case it becomes a reality.
“I’ll call Meghan,” Caspian says. Finn calls Emma again and I bite the bullet and call her father. There’s a chance she went back to see them, and I can only hope that they changed their tune and realized their daughter was worth more than life.
The call is sharp and abrupt, ending within fifteen seconds. I turn back to the others, pressing my lips into a firm line.
“She’s not with her parents.”
“Meghan says they had a call but she was heading home at the time,” Caspian says.
“Still no answer,” Finn mutters, hitting the redial once again.
“Fuck. Fuck!” In any other situation, perhaps we would explain it away as Emma getting food or away for a walk. Deep down I know none of those excuses mean anything.
She’s gone.
Emma is missing and we have no idea where to look for her.